


Concussion

by platoapproved



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Comfort, Concussions, Hugging, Other, alternative version of events, spoilers for 174
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platoapproved/pseuds/platoapproved
Summary: “I take back what I said before.  Your flying is terrible.”
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Skraak
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Concussion

**Author's Note:**

> I’m coping, okay? Don’t question it.

In a way, it was funny; eight of them had been thrown from the ship as it crash landed at a high velocity, and it had been Hamid, flying safely some distance away, who’d ended up the worst injured.

Azu had done more damage to the forest than it had done to her as she crashed straight through a tree, sending it toppling. Barnes had caught hold of a tree branch on the way down, winding himself but still strong enough to keep his hold when Carter caught hold of his ankle. Friedrich had been lucky and landed in a particularly forgiving pile of snow. Skraak had launched off the ship the moment they saw kobold bodies falling and glided at just the right angle to scoop up Meerk and break their momentum enough that they both tumbled into the snow unharmed. A fast bit of casting from Zolf had gotten a floating disk beneath Wilde as he was only about half a meter away from crashing directly into a horribly sharp looking spike that had broken off the side of the airship.

Which had left Hamid with Draal and Sassraa to look after. Draal had been easy, close enough to him that Hamid could cast fly with a passing touch right away. Sassraa, though, was nearly to the ground by the time he reached her. He didn’t have time to cast, or think—he acted on instinct, flinging his arms around her just as her tail brushed the top of the snow. He only had time to suck in a relieved gasp when he flew head-first into a very solid pine tree.

He was not Azu; the tree hardly vibrated enough for a few wisps of snow to fall down as Hamid dropped the last few feet to the ground, Sassraa still in his arms.

There was chaos in the next few moments; Zolf and Azu rushing around, checking everyone, all urgency and business. Hamid got to his feet, wandered a few unsteady steps, patting at his head absently. It _hurt_. When he pulled his hand away, it was a surprise to see blood against his palm. Why was there blood there? Why was it so _cold_?

“What’s…?”

Whatever his question was, he didn’t finish it. His legs wobbled and he sat down in a rush, in something crunchy and cold. Oh, snow. Because they were in Svalbard, weren’t they? Only he couldn’t remember arriving.

Sassraa had been there near him, but now he couldn’t see her. Hamid dropped his gaze to his feet and thought that maybe it would be best if he just sat for a little while. There were too many sounds and too much movement and he felt nauseous and confused.

Time was moving in blurry, unreal eddies, and after some amount of it he felt fingers against his chin, tilting his head up. Clawed fingers.

“Oh, hello, Skraak.”

Skraak was looking at him with some ferocious unidentifiable emotion in their face. Their dark eyes were scanning his face, like they were looking for something. Skraak was leaned in close. Too close to be entirely appropriate. Hamid’s ears were ringing and his stomach roiling but he still grinned, big and loose and happy.

“Oh, are you going to kiss me?” Hamid’s slurred voice sounded utterly, blissfully delighted.

Skraak didn’t respond to that, apart from a flare to his nostrils. Instead, he called over his shoulder:

“Zolf! Better come over here. Definitely a concussion. Bad one.”

Hamid pressed fingertips to his head again, just along the hairline, a quizzical expression twisting up his brow.

“Why’s my hair wet? I don’t—I can’t remember how—” Hamid trailed off, bewildered.

Skraak met his look, and for a moment Hamid thought he saw worry there. Anger and worry and pain. He dropped his hands to his lap again, fighting back another wave of nausea. The pain only seemed to be getting _worse_.

“I take back what I said before. Your flying is terrible.”

Hamid felt Skraak pushing the bloody hair back from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Even through the throbbing, awful ache, it felt nice. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch like an eager cat.

“Thank you,” Skraak said, voice shaking with the feeling behind it.

Even if Hamid didn’t remember what Skraak was thanking him for, he felt a warm glow blossoming in his chest, bright and effervescent. He felt drifty and oddly tired. Maybe he’d been up too late and that was why his brain couldn’t seem to hold onto anything.

“You’re very welcome, Skraak.”

He wasn’t actually sure if he’d said that aloud or not. When Hamid opened his eyes, Skraak wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was twisted around, eyes on Zolf who was a little ways away still. Hamid caught a glimpse of Azu; she was hugging Cel, who was clinging to her like a limpet and seemed to be sobbing their heart out, the kind of horrible, shuddering, loud, gasping crying that Hamid knew only too well.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong with Cel…?”

He tried to get up, alarmed, but then fell back awkwardly at the rush of dizziness the movement brought on. Skraak whirled back towards him, their eyes wide with alarm and anger.

“Don’t try to move!” Skraak snapped at him, and called again, louder this time, strident with it, “Zolf, _now_.”

If he didn’t know better, that awful crack in Skraak’s voice would make Hamid think he was on the verge of tears, too. But that made no sense at all—even less sense than the snow and the pain in his head and the blood and Cel having a breakdown in Azu’s arms. He squinted and saw how Skraak’s narrow shoulders were trembling.

“D’you want a hug?”

A stupid question, and he knew it. Skraak wasn’t really one for _hugs_. He didn’t know why he’d asked it, really. But he didn’t have much else to offer and he hadn’t seen Skraak look like this, look _afraid_ , since Shoin’s.

And to Hamid’s joy and surprise, Skraak gave a tiny, stiff nod.

It would take a lot more than a little (or big) concussion to make Hamid anything less than an accomplished hugger. He was a touch unsteady, as he leaned forward and pulled Skraak into his arms, but once they were there, he held on tight. Skraak’s back was straight and stiff, every muscle in their body tense and shaking. Hamid squeezed them against him tight, face nuzzled happily into their shoulder.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be alright. Whatever’s wrong—it’s just—it’s gonna be alright.”

He heard footsteps approaching, and it was Zolf’s voice that replied, “He’s right, y’know. It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the self-indulgence and for any errors, I'm really on this 'accidentally write a fic in one sitting and fling it onto the internet without editing before you can overthink it' kick lately.


End file.
